


The Journey

by God_of_Death, MississippiDuchess



Category: Original Work
Genre: England - Freeform, Friendship, Gen, Happy Anniversary, Hello Tomato, Now what do I do?, The stuff of fairy tales
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-03-08 22:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18903988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God_of_Death/pseuds/God_of_Death, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MississippiDuchess/pseuds/MississippiDuchess
Summary: Disclaimer: This is an original fiction. They are my own characters and plot. Any similarities, living or dead, is purely coincidence.Summary: Jonathon has a favour to ask and gains a family along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OriginalCeenote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/gifts).



Baltimore, Maryland

"Hi, honey. I know it's late but the baby and I are done with the hospital and just getting a few things from the..." The woman paused in her upbeat strides to the minivan, in the super market's parking lot. She hadn't thought she had parked so far away when they arrived due to the lot being half full. Now that it was forty-five minutes later, cars had thinned out dramatically and she found her silver minivan further from the store than expected. Her body shivered and her breath caught, remembering the last time she had been alone in a parking lot, at night. Two carts crashing together in the corral, two rows over had startled her and made her physically jump at the sound. She clutched her cellphone tighter and gave a ragged breath as her husband's voice called to her. "Yes. I'm here. We're just getting a few things from the store. We'll be home soon. Okay?" After telling her husband she loved him, she ended the call and pushed the cart a little faster the rest of the distance, until they came to the van. Clicking the button on the fob for the trunk to open, she smiled warmly to the baby, who stared back at her. 

The baby fussed and groaned from being in the carrier for so long. Tiny fists spasmed as his tiny body shifted in attempt to get comfortable. He started to cry and fuss louder, demanding to get out of his confinements but found himself still belted into the carrier and his cries unheard as his mother only shushed and gently rubbed his left cheek with her finger.

The woman smiled down at him and dropped her cellphone back into her faux leather purse that dangled from her right shoulder. "I know, buddy. We're almost home." When she looked up again, she gasped in fright at the dark figure who stood on the other side of the van, staring back at her. "Jonathon." Her breathing slowed as she recognised her vampiric saviour. 

"Hello, Tomato." Jonathon smiled.

"What are you doing here? How- how did you...?"

Jonathon stepped closer to the cart full of bags of groceries. "I told you, I will always find you safe." Her heartbeat thumped in his ears, she was relieved but terrified of past events. "Do you not remember? It is our anniversary. Nine years to the night, we met."

Tamara closed her eyes and smiled. "I do remember. I've never been so terrified in my life." When she opened her eyes, he stood closer to her.

A soft smiled appeared on his thin lips. "You were my first friend who knew what I was and did not use me to further your own agenda. For that, I thank you."

Returning the smile and a relieved sigh, she jumped at the sudden squawk from the baby in the carrier, announcing his impatience. "Yes, bud. We're going." With a deep breath, Tamara unlatched the small form from the carrier and picked him up. She turned the eight-month-old around and handed him to Jonathon. When the vampire accepted the task of holding the baby, she stood there a moment and watched them. "Jonathon meet Johnny." Tamara laughed at the look on Jonathon's face as he stared back at the small boy he held. "If you could see yourself, you'd laugh."

Jonathon held the infant with his hands under the child's arms and stared into the unsure face of the infant. His own expression being a casual look of "now what do I do?" made Tamara laugh even harder and shake her head. "Johnny." He gave a nervous smile, hiding his teeth. Clearly not ready to be given the task and yet somehow wanted to show her that he was capable of human activity, though not this particular one, just yet.

Tamara turned from finishing putting the bags into the trunk and shut the door. She then moved to retrieve the carrier from the basket and strap it back into the base, in the backseat and finally push the cart to the corral.

Jonathon turned his head and watched her as she walked back from the corral, three spaces down. He hadn't moved and still held the baby away from him. Panic struck as Johnny started to groan and whimper as the stranger holding him was only standing there, staring at him. "What is it doing?" Terrified to move and waiting for Tamara to receive the child back and place him in the car seat, Jonathon's eyes widened as the baby screamed for his mother.

"Come on, buddy." Tamara stood beside Jonathon and took the small boy from him. She held him close and rubbed his tiny head; soft curly fuzz helmeted his head. "You were this small once, too. I'm sure your mother held you just like this, close to her heart." She swayed gently and soothed the baby's unease as he rest his head on her shoulder, tiny eyes never leaving the man his mother spoke to.

"I don't remember. That was two millennia ago." His eyes dropped as the number of years he walked the earth hit him.

Tamara looked over at her sullen friend. "You look great for your age, grandpa." With the elbow of her free arm, she nudge him and smiled in attempt to cheer him up.

Jonathon brightened. "Thanks. I moisturise." His smile beamed a brilliant row of perfect white teeth, fangs and all. The two laughed and moved to place the baby into the car seat.

As the backseat passenger door slid closed, Tamara turned and stared at Jonathon. "So, what really brings you here? Lonely? Or, is that horrible man's family coming after you?" Her words visibly bit into him as he flinched but she knew he hadn't taken them to heart. In their one night trapped together, she understood more about his disdain for enclosed spaces than anyone he had contact with. She hated that cellar.

Jonathon turned and looked at the tiny face that stared back at him through the tinted glass. When he turned back to Tamara, he found his words had escaped him. "With such a tiny one, I cannot ask you what I came to. Forgive me. You should return home." He bowed. "I will follow and find you safe, Tamara." He stepped back, out of the lot lamplight and disappeared before she was able to stop him.

Tamara rushed to the back of the van and scanned the mostly empty lot for the young man. Finding herself alone, her ears heard the muffled cries of the baby in the van. "Yes, yes, I hear you, buddy." She made her way around to the driver's side door and opened it, giving the lot one more look around before climbing in and buckling her seatbelt. As the door closed and engine started, she put the van in drive and made her way home, eyes looking for the young vampire but found no trace of him.

********

Natasha, raced home from her friend's house, who lived only two houses down, and threw open the door and called for her mother. Her pastel yellow sneakers tapped and thumped across the wood flooring of the formal dining room and into the open kitchen. "Momma! Guess what we learned about today." She and her friend, Sanna, shared summer camp and the parents would take turns picking them up and dropping them off from events. The nine-year-old had dropped her pink backpack next to the door and ran to the kitchen to find Tamara peeling and slicing vegetables for their evening meal, neglecting to close the front door behind her. "We learned all about castles and kings and queens and way back in Prince Arthur's day and everything!" The excited child stopped and watched ask Tamara sliced a long, thick carrot while standing at the floating island that separated the kitchen area from the dining area.

Tamara dumped the fresh cut onion into the crock pot before grabbing the green ladle that rest on a paper towel, beside the pot to stir in the vegetable. She turned to greet her eldest daughter with a smile. "That's great, honey but I think you mean 'King Arthur.' What else did you learn about?" Tamara finished slicing one carrot and reached for another as she waited for her oldest to continue.

"Yeah." Natasha took a breath, not realising she had been out of breath from running home and then running into the house, excited to share with her mother the quests of the day. "Uh, we learned all about knights and fightings and Merlin and his magic potions and things. Miss Lynn says she's going to Ingleland to see a real life museum thing about it. Can we go, too?" She bounced as she held on to the corner of the counter, the tails of her double French braids patting her back as she moved.

Tamara paused but only briefly as she listened to her daughter's recital. "She's going to England, huh? That's pretty cool." Her knife sliced slower and slower as she thought about Jonathon's visit the night before and then about the "thing" at the museum in England. She wondered if there was a connection, or if Jonathon was just lonely and wanting a familiar company to enjoy.

The kitchen filled with the aroma of warm, rich beef stew that cooked in the crock pot, on the counter next to the sink. 

Beaming, Natasha twisted in place. Her energy had not calmed down since getting out of the car. "Can we go too?" Big brown eyes peered over the end of the counter as she hoped her mother would say "yes." She loved her camp teacher and wanted to experience traveling to another country and seeing everything she could, just as she had listened to the adventures of Miss Lynn. Warm chocolate skin glowed from the tiny bit of afternoon sun activities and her clothes held the evidence of dirt from her imaginative explorations of ancient castles and forests. Her youthful mind filled to capacity with wondrous surprise that Tamara was left to wonder when Natasha would give in and fall asleep from the exciting day.

"Sorry, honey. Jon's sick and we just don't have the money, right now. Maybe next year, okay?" Tamara stopped what she was doing and looked over at the two eyes that still stared up at her. "Why don't you go put your backpack away and close the front door. Please? Then, you can go and wash up for dinner. Your father and brother will be home soon." They stared at each other for a long while before the deflated girl turned and shrugged, making her way back to the living room to do as she was asked. 

Though Natasha and her brother, Neil, went to the same summer camp, Neil chose to stay and wait for his dad to pick him up, instead of riding with two, jittery and chatty girls. The summer was a mild one compared to years before, leaving the evening an unsettling cool. Each day was something new in terms of weather; first hot, then cool and then really cool as the night progressed but not anything more than windbreaker weather. The children loved the weather and would constantly ask to play outside, after supper. 

********

Tamara rolled over and opened her eyes to blearily stare at the red numbers on the bedside clock. The baby was crying over the monitor. She peeled back her covers and slipped out of bed, tip-toeing over to the door and opened it to make her way down the hall to Johnny's room. "What? What's the matter, buddy?" Her voice cracked as she whispered, pushing open his door from the normal crack, and padded over to where his crib sat. She found him sitting up and crying, his fever spiking and he was miserable. Reaching down and picking him up, she hushed his cries and rubbed his back. "How about some warm milk and medicine, huh?" Rather than put him back into his crib, she continued to rub his back as he rest his head on her shoulder as they went downstairs for a fresh bottle and medicine.

She placed him in his bouncer that she had placed on the island counter and then turned to prepare a new bottle for him. Pouring the formula into the bottle and placing it into the small, white microwave on the far end of the counter, she scooped up the berry-flavoured liquid medicine and measured half a dropper full before placing the end of the dropper into his mouth and emptying it. "Oh, yuck. I know, sweetie. Momma's sorry." She couldn't help but giggle as the baby made faces at the taste of the medicine. 

The microwave dinged and she screwed the top onto the bottle, shaking it before testing it on her wrist. "Here you go, punkin. The yummy stuff saves the day." Tamara handed him to the bottle and watched him eagerly suck on the rubber nipple, anxiously trying to get the awful taste out of his mouth. "Yeah, good stuff, huh?" Movement from the backdoor caught her eye, making her gasp as she studied the outline of the figure. 

Jonathon stood on the back porch and waited for her to open the door. He hadn't made a sound but stood there, patiently and listened to the two heartbeats just inside. His ears had caught the muffled sound of the baby crying and then the soft, kind words of Tamara as she comforted the feverish boy. He stood a few steps back from the door as the curtain moved aside and the door carefully slid open. 

Carrying the bundled baby she had wrapped in her husband's flannel shirt that he kept draped over the back of his chair, Tamara stepped out and made her way over to the patio chair. "Jonathon, you're hovering." She kept her voice just above a whisper and her eyes on the baby as she spoke to the teen. She smiled as the baby continued to drink his fill and hold onto the bottle over his mother's hand.

"Apologies. His cries sounded disturbed so,... I grew concerned." Jonathon stood a fair distance from them, not wanting to upset the content baby. With his hands in his jeans pockets, he watched them, mesmerized in their actions. He hadn't been able to recall watching his mother do the same with his brothers or sister yet he found himself watching them intently.

When Tamara finally looked up, she called him over to sit in the chair beside her. "Come here. Come on, he won't hurt you." She took the bundle and stood up, turning to face him. "Hold your arms like I have mine. There." She gently placed the baby into Jonathon's tense arms and told him to relax. "He won't break but he won't bite you, either. He is cutting teeth, though." She sat back down and turned to watch the teen hold the little one.

Jonathon felt himself tense as the boy squirmed in his arms. He could feel the warmth from the boy's fever soak through the sleeves of his navy dress shirt. Again, he wasn't sure what to do while holding the tiny body. "What do I do now?"

"Hm?" Tamara asked sleepily. "Just hold him. He likes to be held during the night." She yawned and smiled at the scene before her. "Are you going to tell me the real reason you're here? Or, will this become a nightly thing?" She drew her knees up and rest her cheek on her hand as it rest on the back of the chair and smiled at the tyke as Jonathon had relaxed into holding him. "Did you want to be a dad, when you grew up? Do you remember your dad?" 

Jonathon let his smile fade as his head turned to look at the sleepy woman and shrug his shoulders. "My father was dispatched in battle when I was seven." He turned back to look at the boy and smile as the tiny baby smiled and cooed up at him. "I had wanted to grow up and become a man, yes. In those days, I had wanted to take my mother and siblings away from there. Mother always spoke of moving north, away from Londinium and the Roman occupation. My father was Roman, yes but after his death, she wanted nothing to do with Rome, or Hadrian." He watched as small brown eyes slid closed and the bottle became lax on the baby's chest. Gently removing the bottle from the baby's grasp, he was then instructed to rub and gently knead Johnny's tiny stomach, removing any air bubbles he might have.

Tamara moved as her leg had fallen asleep. "So, why are you here, now?"

With the question being posed again, he hadn't brought himself to look back over at her and answer. Instead, he stared at the sleeping infant until he found the right words. "My birthday is in a few weeks."

"So you do have one. I knew you weren't just the zany cellar dweller who couldn't remember his name." Tamara laughed. "You really astound me, Jonathon." Had he been alive, she would have sworn he would blush. 

Smiling at the chide, Jonathon nodded. "I have one. It's been so long since I thought about it that I had forgotten all about my previous life. I came to find you, the night before, to ask for your accompaniment to London. There is an exhibit I would like you to see. When I saw you with the child, I thought not to ask." He knew he had no right to ask her in any form, seeing as he was a vampire who had wanted to dine on her blood but ended up casting her away after freeing her from their prison.

From behind her, Tamara heard the heavy creme curtain move and a small voice speak up. 

"Can we go? Please?" Natasha stepped outside and padded over to them in her shorts and T-shirt pajamas. Yellow socks, twisted and sliding off from being slept in collected the dust on the patio. She stood next to her mother and clasped her hands together, smiling her biggest pleading smile.

Jonathon's eyes widened as he watched the little girl beg her mother for a trip to England. His senses had failed him from hearing the third heartbeat until it was too late and even then, was unequipped to deal with the excitement the nine-year-old showed for three-thirty-five in the morning.

 

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

The night had fallen silent as both Tamara and Jonathon sat in their chairs and stared at the excited child. An audible release of breath as Tamara thought of how to answer her daughter. "I... I don't think so, Natty." She shook her head and stood up to nudge her oldest back inside. Casually, she stepped around to stand between Natasha and Jonathon.

Natasha folded her arms and pouted. "But he just..." In looking around her mother, Natasha found the second chair empty of the pale young man, holding her brother, and only she and Tamara standing on the shadowed patio. "Where'd he go?" Her head swiveled to both sides of them but found no trace of the Englishman. She shivered as she moved to step around her mother, now holding the sleeping infant in her arms and look for the mysterious man she knew Tamara had been talking to not three minutes prior. Natasha yawned as she came to a stop in front of the vacant chair and reached down to place her hand on the seat, to feel for warmth. She found only the cold wrought iron.

Tamara took the moment to agree with Jonathon's hasty and inexplicable departure to reassure her daughter that what or who she saw was only apart of her exhaustion. "Honey, I think you are overtired and need to go back to bed. Come on, upstairs. Now that he's finally asleep, we can all get some rest." She cradled the little body, wrapped in his father's thick, red flannel shirt.

"Mom, I'm nine, not crazy." Natasha turned and gave her mother an over-the-shoulder "I'm not amused" look as she then picked up the half-full bottle from the side she knew he had sat on and held it up for Tamara to see. "I know he was here. You were talking to him. I heard him ask you to go to..." 

Tamara had cut in, not allowing her to finish her sentence. "...to go to bed. It's four in the morning, your brother's asleep, you're half asleep and I'm falling asleep." With a nod to the open sliding glass door and the curtain that was once again shielding the kitchen from the cold air of the chilly early morning, she ushered them both inside. Tamara gave one last look to the empty backyard before closing the door and locking it. She then followed the sleepy nine-year-old upstairs and stopped at her door, watching Natasha climb into bed and roll away from her, quickly falling asleep. Continuing on with her next child, she unwrapped the sleeping bundle as she placed him in his crib and covered him with his soft yellow baby blanket and whispered, "good night, little man."

A soft tap at the window startled her. With a breath of relief after seeing Jonathon just outside the second floor window, she made her way over to it and carefully lifted the bottom pane up. Rational thought struck her as she noted no ledge he perched on yet, he lingered there with only the tips of his fingers of one hand while the other displayed the bottle she had left on the patio table. "How are you...?" Tamara looked down and found nothing he stood on. 

Jonathon smiled. "Time for rest, Tomato."

Tamara started to retort but dropped her speech and sighed. "Okay." She accepted the bottle and told him "goodnight" before sliding the window closed and then the curtain, turning and heading back to her bedroom. She yawned as she crawled back into bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Jonathon had made himself scarce and quickly took refuge in a manhole, not thirty feet from Tamara's front lawn. He feasted on rats that crawled along the piping, steering clear of city workers, repairing wiring. Finding a dry, dark shelf in a miscellaneous tunnel to sleep for the day, he rested and dreamed of his youth, his last moments with his father.

*****

Nottingham, UK  
1108ish AD

In a quiet little cottage on the outskirts of a small, sleepy village a light flickered in the window. There was movement in the shadows of the dancing flame; frantic, heart-pounding and terrifying movement and then, nothing. Inside, an apothecary's workshop in disarray and the lord of the house nowhere in sight. Tinctures knocked over on the heavy oak tables, beakers and vials broken on the dirt floor and pots and pans left swinging in the aftermath of the upturned dining table, in the far corner of the cottage, next to the massive stone fireplace.

The door to the bedroom opened and a barefoot figure emerged, wiping his mouth on a shirt sleeve. The intruder hiccupped and closed the door behind him, concealing his drained meal, an elderly man in his nightclothes who fell to the charm of a young man at his door. He licked his lips and hiccuped again as he stepped over the broken glass on the floor and made his way through the mess to the door. In reaching for the slide handle, there was a knock at the door. His eyes widened and he swallowed with another hiccup immediately following.

The visitor knocked again and waited for the door to open.

The door cracked open and a young man's thin, pale face appeared. "Yes?"

"Jonathon, is it not?" A young woman stood on the front walk, clutching her knit shawl around her shoulders.

The figure swallowed nervously. "Yes. Lady Isabel. How might I assist you?" He smiled and discreetly ran his tongue over his teeth, removing any trace of his meal. Jonathon was careful enough to only have the door open as much as he needed without letting her see the mess inside.

Isabel smiled pleadingly and looked about her, in a fright. "Please, is your master about? Mary is terribly unwell and I fear she will decline even more, if there is not relief." The rain had started again and soon would come down in torrents, tentatively trapping them at the Apothecary's, if they didn't hurry. She anxiously turned to quickly survey the night grounds before looking back to Jonathon. "Please, I must speak with Master Gaius."

Blood drained from Jonathon's face and with one last hiccup, Jonathon agreed to go along with the lovely young lady and care for her younger sister. With careful speed, Jonathon grabbed tinctures of fever tonic and pouch of herbal teas and crushed seasonings from the last uprighted table, next to the fireplace and stuffed them into a carrier pouch as he hurried outside. "The master has found himself unwell, at present but I shall be grateful to be of assistance, my lady." 

"Have I disturbed your slumber? You've come away without your shoes." Isabel looked down at his feet as they walked away from the front step. She pulled her shawl up, over her hair and folded her arms about her with a shiver. After knowing him for only a few short months, Isabel had taken a liking to the mysterious man from the southern parts. In glancing up again, she noted a look of surprise on his face. She giggled to herself at his embarrassment.

Jonathon looked down at his own feet as he stepped into puddles, letting the mud squish between his toes. "Yes. Do forgive me. The master has been ill for days and I have not had the chance to tend to my own comforts." Upon becoming aware of his bare feet, Jonathon took note of his attire but hadn't bothered to attempt any straightening. His tan trousers were becoming muddy at the ankles and somewhat loose from having been worn for three days and nights. His tunic, although more fresh, was faded and slightly wrinkled at the sleeves from being rolled to his elbows to keep out of contaminating potions. Jonathon kept his long locks at bay with a solitary braid down his back, which he hid under his tunic and made sure to have a long tunic to wear to conceal the length.

Isabel walked beside him on the well-worn road and peeked over at him with each swing back of her lantern that hung from a tall pole, curved at the top to hold its partner cage. "Such mystery in a young man. You must tell me, do they all have little regard for pleasantries, south of here?" A soothing voice to match her fair skin and rich emerald eyes. A deep Welsh accent reduced to undertones in the northern villages gave her a charm and grace that few women of that region lacked.

His eyes widened at the mention of the southern cities and he longed to tell someone of his beautiful home on Roman occupied Londinium. Swallowing and shrugging off his lament, Jonathon stepped up onto the stone front step on Isabel's cottage. "It was a sight to behold. Come, I shall tend to Mary." He held up the pack of medicines and opened the door, letting her enter first. Jonathon pretended to wipe his feet on the wet stone and guarding a careful glance up to see her remove her shawl and offer his entrance. With a faint smile, he accepted and stepped inside. His nose filled with familiar scent that grew stronger as he moved closer to the fevered thirteen-year-old.

Mary lie in a bed in the far corner of the cottage. The inner walls of the home were merely large blankets and sheets drawn up as dividers and sectioned off with small rooms for the two girls and their parents. She lie on her back and moaned as the fever grew worse, causing her to sweat and shift about in a pained rest. Mary opened her eyes as she heard her name spoken by her elder sister and smiled weakly at the young man that followed Isabel.

"He's going to make you well again, sister." Isabel knelt beside the low-rise straw bed and placed a cool hand on Mary's forehead to feel for fever. In turning back to Jonathon from Mary, her expression turned grim. After a breath, she turned back to her sister and fashioned a smile. "I will not be far, sister." Isabel stood and turned to move out of Jonathon's way as he sat down on the bed, beside Mary. 

Asking for another candle as the one beside the bed was close to being spent, Jonathon waited for Isabel to leave before turning back to Mary. Calmly, he placed a hand on the right side of her neck and turned down the collar of her nightshirt. He spotted the two small marks on her neck and then stared down into the face of the pale child. "When have you been visited last, child?" He knew she was old enough to know who had greeted her with such impressions and was ever able to know just whom, from the scent but wanted to hear the girl admit the name, if nothing more.

Mary smiled faintly. "A young girl in distress came round two evenings last. Had the most beautiful of trinkets with her. She was freezing so we huddled close." A whisper was more of a willing tone but the girl was not afforded the honour. Instead, her voice faded in and out of volume, forcing Jonathon to read her pale lips, despite his keen sense of hearing.

"Did she give her name?" Busying himself with the small pouch in his hand, Jonathon removed the tincture that housed the fever powder and placed a small spoonful worth of medicine in a cup of water, next to her bed and stirred the mixture into the water. Isabel had returned with a larger candle and held it over the bed, releasing enough light for him to see as he lifted the girl's head up off of the pillow, allowing her to sip the tart liquid. 

With her head back on the pillow and a fit of coughs coming forth, Mary divulged the name within a whisper. "Gwen."

~~~~~~

"What happened to her?" Tamara shifted in the patio chair, turning sideways and drawing her legs up to curl beside her on the seat. She waited for the house to quiet and the family to sleep before hearing Jonathon's light tappings on the window. She wrapped herself up in her brown flannel throw blanket from the back of the couch.

Jonathon looked down at his hands in his lap. His silence spoke volumes. As he looked up and studied the ridges of the fence on the far end of the yard, he found himself wishing not to tell of his sister, anymore. "She was lost a long time ago. She was thirteen, in Londinium. A woman, in those days, but she was still my little sister. After the fire, the city was in ruin. People were scrambling for their families, fearful the small blaze would scorch the rest of the city. I lost them all. My mother sent me away with her final breath and Jason and Marcus were gone. It wasn't until hundreds of years later that I caught her scent in a field poppies, in northern Nottingham. When I did finally catch up to her, in that little village, she told me Jason had grown to a hardworking man who loved his family and grandchildren while, Marcus died in battle."

Tamara was silent, studying him as he continued to stare out at the darkened yard. "I'm sorry." She whispered finally. 

He shrugged. "Both my brothers had full lives, living and dying as they believed in. My father would have been proud." Silence again, for a long while. Jonathon turned his head and raised a hand to point at the sliding door behind her and while her head was turned to look, he used the moment to vanish from the chair.

The door slid open and out stepped her husband, curious and looking around for the second voice he heard. "What are you doing out here?" He stepped out and panned the backyard.

"I couldn't sleep so, I decided to come out and sit for awhile." 

Nodding and turning to look at her, he nodded over to the vacant chair, across from her. "You going to introduce me to your friend? The one you've been talking to." He folded his arms and waited for her explanation.

"Trevor,.."

"Tamara, I know he's been sneaking around here in the shadows, watching our children outside their rooms, talking to you like he's their uncle or something. That night two years ago, it was him on the drive, wasn't it?" He looked down at her, too tired to be hurt but not too tired to fight for his wife, if the situation called for it. He knew what Jonathon looked like from the infrared camera footage his security cameras around the perimeter of the house had picked up. "Who is he, Tammie?"

Tamara unfolded herself and stood up, turning to face her husband. "Jonathon, please come back." She made no move to look for him but when he didn't replace himself at her request, she asked again. "Jonathon?" She felt his presence only feet behind her as she swallowed but never waivered from watching her husband to see what he would do next. "Jonathon, this is Trevor, my husband. Honey, this is the man that saved my life, nine years ago."

The narrowing of eyes between the two men gave Tamara an uneasy feel of being in the middle. She shifted and reached out to place a hand on his bare arm.

"Thought you said he was older." Trevor glared at the darkened figure behind her. His anger ruffled but never showed itself in front of Tamara. Trevor believed her when she first told him she was kidnapped and held overnight in a storm cellar, along with an older man. He believed she and Natasha were saved by the first captive though, the details hadn't come to light. Now that the supposed first captive stood only feet from him, he wasn't sure what he knew, anymore.

Groaning and clearing her throat as she shifted the blanket that was still wrapped around her, Tamara took a step back. "He is, technically."

Jonathon shrugged and smirked at the taller man. "More than looks are deceiving." He stood calmly with his hands in his pockets and let his tongue play around with the smoothness of his top teeth as he waited to see what Trevor would do. 

"How old?"

As Trevor stepped forward, Tamara halted him. "Honey, he's not here to start anything. He's certainly not here to claim me or Nat. We're alive because of him."

Trevor gathered every ounce of calm he could before speaking again in a casual tone. "Then what does he want?" His gaze fell to her. "You told me he was a half-crazed lunatic that was chained to a wall and after he gets a hair cut and new clothes, you two are best buds? I trust you, Tammie. I do but it's the middle of the night, you two are sneaking around like something's wrong. So, if he isn't here about Nat or you, why is he here?"

Jonathon grew tired of talking and wasting time when the sun was due in a few brief hours, he stepped forward and stopped behind Tamara to stare down her husband. "I do apologise for the late night chats of things but my daytime habits do prevent me from coming round in the bright and shiny for tea and scones." He smiled a toothy grin. 

Trevor's brow knitted together from taking in Jonathon's tone. "You here to threaten my wife, boy?"

A large breed dog barked from across the street having the Tomlinson's rottweiler next door, hearing the commotion and reply. Other dogs were beginning to wake and join in as Jonathon's demeanour changed from calm to irritated.

"Boys!" Tamara raised her voice and silenced the two men and the barking dogs throughout the neighborhood. "Trevor... Jonathon..." she sighed and then started again. "Honey, he's not here to harm me or any of us, in any way. He asked me for a favour and I just haven't gotten back to him yet." She turned and motioned for Trevor to sit down in the seat she had vacated when he stepped outside. "Please." When Trevor reluctantly agreed to sit down, she then turned to Jonathon and offered him the chair he had sat in before the door opened. "Thank you. Now, Jonathon has asked me to go with him for a few days. Nothing illegal and certainly not for good."

Nodding, Trevor sat on the edge of the seat and controlled himself. "Go where? To do what?"

Jonathon sat very calmly in the chair with his hands in his lap and stared out at the far fence, once again. "To England. I wish to show her something." His eyes still forward with a calm tone, he didn't bother to look what Trevor's reaction was.

Tamara cleared her throat. "It's only for a few days." She shivered and wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she stifled a yawn.

Turning and looking at Jonathon's profile, Trevor sneered. "They don't have Google, in England?"

"Not for this." A soft reply.

Trevor rubbed his eyes and bowed his head, keeping them closed for a little longer before he opened them and stood up. "What guarantee do I have that you'll be safe, with him? How do I know you'll come home as unharmed as you left?" He trusted her and wanted to show her that he had faith in her to come back to him and their family but he wasn't ready to give up her freedom to go with a stranger she had spent one night with, as well as this stranger played the part of sane very well.

Also standing and turning to face him, Jonathon answered the questions for her. "I shall be a complete gentleman on the voyage and shall return her safe... and sound... right home to you. My word, sir." His eyes never left Trevor's face as the man looked from Jonathon to Tamara and back.

"One week." 

Jonathon bowed. "Agreed." After straightening and looking to Tamara for reassurance, Jonathon smiled. "I shall send a car for you this evening, seven thirty. Sharp. Until then." With a final look of caution to Trevor, Jonathon turned and vanished in a blink of an eye, leaving the two to sand on the patio in silence.

Trevor turned to look at her in confusion. "Who'd you say he was, again?"

 

Continued


	3. Chapter 3

Jonathon reclined on a leather chair, next to a window with the shade down. He had closed his eyes moments before as he listened to the soft hum and almost inaudible wind on the wings as the plane soared through the fluffy white clouds of the night sky. He smiled and let his head sway from side to side with the gentle tilting of the plane as the jet he had acquired, climbed in elevation. The plane departed shortly after 8:30 PM from a personal runway, immediately following Tamara's arrival at the hangar. He was already aboard and had closed the shades to keep out the ending day's light. After speaking briefly to the pilot about landing instructions, he turned and greeted Tamara with a welcoming smile.

Tamara staggered from the lounging bench seat, back and to the left of him, to sitting beside him and quickly strapping herself into the captain's chair. "How can you just sit there and snooze while we stumble out of control?" She turned her head to look at him and and found a peaceful smile on his lips. "Jonathon!" With the next slight bump in the plane's flight, Tamara gasped and gripped her chair's arms. She hated to fly and found it odd that he was not at all uncomfortable.

"You must learn to relax, Tomato. No harm will come to you." Jonathon smiled and answered in a low tone, keeping his eyes closed.

Tamara scoffed. "Says the vampire who wouldn't die from a horrible crash."

Opening his eyes and turning to face her, Jonathon grinned. "Shall I help you overcome your fear?" Rich, blue eyes gazed calmly into hers.

"Hey, nooo. None of that. Uh uh!" Tamara squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away from him. "You might snap your fingers and make me act like a chicken. No!"

Jonathon erupted in soft laughter. "Don't be silly, of course not a chicken. I was thinking more of a pigeon or blue bird." He smirked as she snapped her head back to glare at his suggestions. "Calm yourself, Tamara. If you feel better, you may close your eyes and simply listen to me." He waited as she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "Breathe in, breathe out, slowly and repeat. You are sitting on a great cloud, drifting along the ocean's surface. A gentle sway as small ripples ease you on your way. Your journey is light and gentle, no storm clouds in sight." His cool hand rest on her's as the plane bumped with turbulence and then settled.

She sighed as the plane settled, opening her eyes after a long pause. "All right. Two questions."

"Yes?"

Tamara cleared her throat and turned to look at him. "How did you become so knowledgeable about being calm, in the air, and whose plane was this?" Curiosity had struck her on the statistics moments before they boarded and taxied to the runway. She grew even more concerned as Jonathon only smiled and chuckled at the questions.

Jonathon looked around the cabin of the luxury jet and then back to the woman sitting next to him. "Twenty-five years ago, Roland made a will. His estate and all of his possessions would be handed over to his dear, great grandson, living abroad, dear, sweet Jonathon Talicus. Roland never remarried after his first wife died... mysteriously... and had no actual children of his own. So, forty years ago, he 'adopted' me. I suppose he had thought I would bring him over to my way of life and when I didn't, he 'revoked my freedoms' and had since forgotten all about his will." A hint of sadness washed across his face as he had once deeply cared for the child who became his final captor, and in as brief as it appeared, he was quick to change his endearment before she noticed. "The answer to your first question had to do with a boat, British soldiers and a small crevice in back of the hold."

Reminding herself of the name of the crooked old man who kept them prisoner, Tamara shivered. The jet shook with slight turbulence but smoothed out before Tamara could say anything in dissatisfaction. Instead, she groaned as her stomach waffled. "I feel ill." Placing a hand over her mouth and reclining into the seat, she sighed and could feel herself turn three shades of green. She turned to find Jonathon gone from his seat and now standing at a small drink tray, towards the front of the cabin. When he returned to sit beside her, she was handed a glass tumbler of club soda and lemon. "Let me guess, in your long career, you were a bartender, too?" She smiled to herself as she had once again stumped him with modern lingo and giggled at his blank look he gave her. "A server, or bar keep."

"Ah! No." Jonathon shook his head. "Bicarbonate settles the stomach and lemon just tastes good. It was my favourite fruit, you know?"

Tamara didn't answer but instead just sipped the drink and eyed him, trying to picture him as a human. Within moments, her queasiness subsided and in between sucking on the wedge of lemon that he had draped over the edge of her glass and wondering what else he might have picked up over the centuries, she wondered if she should ask him about it. He had only revealed personal details if it fit into the situation but never offered anything without being asked. Since that night, being locked in the storm cellar with him, she often thought why he chose her to be friends with and not any of the other unfortunate souls trapped in the same obstacle. Her curiosity had spiked even more when he asked her to join him on a trip back to England. "Why me?" She noted that he took the silence to open the shade and look out the window. "Jonathon."

Jonathon turned to acknowledge her question and then turn back. "Hm?" As he stared out into the dark sky around them, he found his own memory wandering back to old Londinium and then to York and Scotland, in the later centuries. "Why you what?" He repeated her question and held the look of an innocent child.

Shifting and looking at him with caution, Tamara reiterated, "what made you decide to be my friend and come to my aid, when you must have had countless opportunities to overpower the two oafs?" She could tell he was lost in his own tragic memories of the years spent in the storm cellar. 

"Frank and Daniel were once my friends, after of course, attempting to snack on young Daniel. Daniel's great granddaughter, Patricia, was my only best friend on this continent. We would sit and talk about anything and everything and play chess and read to each other from books she would bring, sometimes finishing entire sections in a night. She was the only other one I wanted to bring over." He stopped and thought of Patricia's face. "I had only brought her over when her father separated us and..." his voice trailed off. "After that, Roland stopped coming to spend time with me. Six years had passed before he was brave enough to unbar the door to the cellar and feed me again. By then, I was half-mad with hunger and had taken to forraging on insects and field mice that tunneled in from under the corn field. Roland was a good boy, strong young man but I betrayed him and his family with turning Patricia. Also, there were others before you who tried to talk me out of dining on them but when the hunger takes over... little can be done to sate it. Each of the others had tried to escape, too; most choosing the moment at the top of the steps to fight their way free. One fell and broke his back as he struggled back up the steps, but ultimately, they all ended the same. Some were seasoned with the strangest of flavours that tingled just as I bit into them. However, it was the effort you showed me with the cloth that changed my mind. I've been spat at, hissed at, railed against but, you chose conversation and then let me taste your 'joyous news' in that cloth. My nature is to be self-indulging, self-sustaining but, I've never taken two lives at once. The child should have a reason to live, to fight, to breathe freedom." He paused and looked away from the window and down at his lap. "I had hoped, you would have taken me up on my offer to bring me peace. I waited for it."

Tamara listened to his words and smiled as he explained why he hadn't chosen to kill her. "I'm glad I didn't. Who knows what that bitter old raisin would have done to me if you hadn't come through the door." She watched him and wondered what other hard life lessons he must have learned in that cellar. 

Jonathon said nothing, only smiled at the decision.

~~~~~~~

The plane landed and taxied to a hangar, at Heathrow. Jonathon peered out the window and smiled. "It will be daybreak soon and I have secured a suite for you at a hotel. I do hope you like it. There is a car and personal driver for you, at the entrance. I shall call on you, this evening." He bowed politely and started to turn away but stopped as she caught his arm.

"Wait. Where will you be staying?"

Jonathon was touched by the question. "No need for alarm, Tamara. I have the room across from you. You should rest. After being on a flying contraption for seven hours, I must find something for dining." He waited for her to exit the plane before doing so himself and escorting her to the vintage Morgan, parked in front of the hangar. He waited for her to sit down on the backseat and nodded to the driver as he closed the door and sat down in the driver's seat. As the car pulled away, Jonathon looked up at the predawn sky and listened to the silence around him. 

Tamara sat in the backseat of the plush white Morgan and looked about herself. She turned and stared out each window, wondering where this "suite" was that she was going to. Nervously, she leaned forward and eyed the driver. "Hello? Excuse me, where are we going?"

Anthony was a medium-sized man in his early forties, with short black hair and a square jaw. "To Park Plaza, Miss. I am to be your driver for this trip. I do hope you enjoy the safe ride." He said, over his left shoulder.

"Ah. Where is that, exactly?" She eyed the road ahead and then watched the gauges on the dash.

Smiling and answering in his well-manicured London tone, he settled her nerves. "No need for a fret, Miss. Mister Talicus has reserved the very best hotel suite in London, for you, overlooking Westminster. Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride. We'll arrive shortly."

Tamara was partly flattered and partly unsettled. "Westminster." Her first thoughts were of her husband and children and what to tell them; or how. She knew Jonathon had come into a lot of money but wasn't sure just how much Roland had. As the car pulled up to the curb, Anthony placed it in park and jumped out to open her door for her. Tamara was awestruck at the sheer beauty of the building. She hadn't heard what he had said but mumbled a "thank you" just the same. Looking back at the driver and catching his coat sleeve, she cleared her throat and asked, "are you sure I'm supposed to be here?"

Anthony laughed and then apologized for his amusement. "Apologies. Yes, Miss." He turned and waved a hand at the hotel manager, who came out to greet them. "Derek, here, will see you up to your room. Enjoy your stay, Miss." He smiled again and bowed as he watched the woman, still staring upward, step forward and let herself be lead by the distinguished gentleman next to her. He then took to his task of retrieving her suitcase from the boot of the car and following a few minutes behind them.

Elegant marble floors, polished until they reflected the bright, warm glow from the modest chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. The night staff at the desk prepared for the morning business while the maids and bellhops polished and aligned their trays and carts for new guests. A tinted door, past the grand desk, lead to the spa while another door across from it lead to the indoor pool. For the early hours of the morning, the hotel lobby was very busy but not so busy that they didn't stop and smile and welcome their new guest. The mirrored appearance of the lobby made it seem much more vast than it was, however, to Tamara everything was bigger and more expensive. 

The building itself was grand but almost blended in with the other buildings on the street. To one side, there was the grand Thames River while on the other side was the building of Parliament. The entire experience felt all too surreal. She wondered if meeting the Queen would be next.

Tamara followed the man into the elevator and waited for the car to reach their floor. Once the doors opened, she was led down the hall and then stopped at a tall door. She held her breath as the manager slid the card in and unlocked the door before opening it and stepping aside for her to enter. "Heh. That Johnny.... he's a gooood joker." The lights were already on as she stepped into the room and looked around the corner, finding a large, king-sized bed waiting for her. She turned and smiled graciously but shook her head. "I think there's been some mistake."

The manager's brow furrowed. "Mistake, ma'am?" He looked confused but then smiled and reassured her it was not a dream. "The room had been paid for in full for the week. All amenities are at your disposal. If you wish for something to eat, Room Service is available 24 hours a day. Please, do enjoy your stay, Ma'am." He bowed, handed her the cardkey and quietly exited the room, pulling the door to, behind him.

She stood at the end of the bed and looked around the room. Updated furniture with almost futuristic appliances as well as royal amenities surrounded her. Tamara felt like an empress, just coming in to power. She wandered through the room, inspecting it for any kind of camera that might have been playing a trick on her but found none. Upon inspecting the bathroom and shower area, there was a knock on the door. She made her way over and opened the door, finding Anthony standing there, holding her suitcase. "Oh, Thank you....?"

"Anthony, Miss." The driver bowed and smiled as he placed her small black rolling suitcase just inside the door. "If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to ring."

"Um, thank you." Tamara smiled and dug a twenty out of her pocket, which was quickly deferred. 

Anthony shook his head. "Mister Talicus has paid in full all expenses, Miss. No need for charity." He smiled again and turned to walk back to the elevator.

"O-kay." Closing the door and turning back to the room, Tamara swallowed and shuddered. She stepped forward, grabbing her suitcase on the way. Her purse, still dangling on her right shoulder was set down on the six-place dining table and opened as she dug around for her cellphone. Finally, her fingers found it and she opened a text to her husband, knowing he might be asleep. 

**Here safe. Hotel is amazing! Will get pics and things later.  
Going to rest, now. Will call when I get up. Love you and the  
kids. **

Plugging in the charger cord and then plugging in the phone, she let it charge on the stand beside the bed as she reached for the remote and pushed the ON button to the TV. Tamara was wide awake, or at least she was before she sat down on the bed. She flipped through the channels but found nothing to interest her. Tamara sighed as she turned it off and tossed the remote down beside her. Her hands moved along the soft bedspread. She yawned and stretched and laid down, curling herself to one side as she closed her eyes, letting sleep claim her.

~~~~~~~

Tamara woke to what felt like centuries later and a knock at her door. She moaned and opened her eyes to find that she had sprawled herself across the king bed. Sometime during her sleep, she had pulled a pillow loose from its place and hugged it, resting her head on its corner. The knocking continued and she sat up and looked about herself. Tamara pushed off of the bed and wobbled her way over to the door, opening it and yawning as she stared at Jonathon through bleary eyes.

Jonathon smiled. "Good evening. Did you sleep well?" 

She sighed and nodded as she yawned again while turning away from the door and waving him in. "What time is it?"

Jonathon stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Nine thirty. How was your rest?" 

"That was the best damn sleep I've had in a long time. No kids to wake me, no phones going off, sirens--" Tamara stopped and turned to look for her phone. "I need to call Trevor and let him know we made it." She walked over to the bedstand and picked the flat white phone up, tapping the screen to unlock it. She scrolled through her recent call list and tapped her husband's name. Tamara pushed SEND on the screen and listened to it ring. "He should be home by now. Hey, honey, we made it, a few hours ago, and I took a nap. I'm just calling you back." She eyed Jonathon, who hovered like a curious puppy, eyeing the device in her hand. She smirked as he leaned in closer to sniff at the object in her hand and then backed away as he heard her husband's voice come from it. "Gives the kids a kiss for me and tell them I love them. Alright. I love you too." Tamara ended the call and snickered again at the curiosity of the vampire. "You'd make a fantastic mime, Jonathon." She cleared her throat and replaced the phone to her purse.

Jonathon's brow knit together. "A what?"

Tamara laughed harder. "It's a silent actor." She sighed as the joke was lost on him. "So," she turned and walked to the table to grab her suitcase and made her way back to the bed to place it on the end and unzip it, "where to first?" She busied herself with laying out clean clothes and hygiene items before turning back to him.

Jonathon started to answer but a knock at the door interrupted him. "I've taken liberty to order you something to eat, though, I was not sure what you would consider for course." He walked back to the door and opened it, stepping aside to let the four trays of foods enter along with their waiters. He stood there patiently and watched as the platters were uncovered and the nodded to each of the waiters as they left, one by one.

She looked the platters over and felt a little anxious in what to eat first. "Um, first-- you can get out. I intend to clean up, first. Then, some food, maybe." She finished arranging her clothes and walked over to the table to examine each tray. She was hungry but didn't know where to begin. Grabbing a grape and nibbling it, she sighed. "If you ate real food, I'd say help yourself. I couldn't finish this if I tried." She turned back to him, catching a smirk before it faded and Jonathon stepped forward. 

Jonathon picked up a cherry tomato from a large salad bowl and looked it over. "I can eat but it does not sustain me." He stared at the little red ball in his hand and thought about Rachel, his first love. "Please, refresh yourself and dine. I will wander a bit." Placing the tomato beside the bowl, on the tray, he bowed to her and quietly left the room.

Tamara watched him leave and then looked down at the food he had stared at. "You are an onion, Jonathon. A large, tightly wrapped and slightly singed onion."

 

TBC.


End file.
